


That in Which Events Succeed

by pollybywater



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder gets a surprise at Walter Skinner's retirement party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That in Which Events Succeed

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Notes: Coarse language, past suicidal intent, mention of past violence, sexual violence and self-harm. Some schmoop and lots and lots of talking. Audrey calls this "one big dialogue-driven courtship" which describes it pretty well. Set post-series and ignores the last movie, remixes aspects of my own previous characterizations, brief inclusion of a pairing from another fandom (Stargate) but is not really a crossover. My grateful thanks to Audrey and Britta for their sharp eyes, sharper minds, and sweet hearts. Written for the 2009 Alex Krycek Christmas E-zine.

"Well. Imagine my surprise. Not only are you alive and well, with two hands again, you're here at Walter Skinner's invitation-only retirement party." Mulder levered himself onto the open barstool on Alex Krycek's right side, making an effort to keep his own hands open and visible even though Krycek hadn't moved a muscle as far as he could tell.

Krycek was leaning on the bar, drink in his left hand, which left his gun hand free, Mulder noticed, to rest on one firm, denim-clad thigh. Krycek had been watching Walt, who was roaring with laughter from some story the Director was telling; it turned out the guy had been Walt's SAC back in the day and was full of good stories about Walt's days as a Bureau rookie. The room was packed with listening people. To Mulder, it felt like every person Walter Skinner had ever known was present.

"Walt invited me personally," Krycek drawled, tipping his glass towards the guest of honor, who'd caught sight of them and was currently aiming a stern glare over a number of heads that plainly warned Mulder against picking any fights.

Not that he'd intended to, Mulder thought a little sullenly. He could be polite, plus, it was hard to resist the leap of 'glad' in his gut that said he was honestly and sincerely happy - and relieved - to find Alex Krycek alive.

And Krycek looked good, in a red sweater and a black leather blazer. His hair was long enough to brush his collar and fall over his forehead, and there were more than a few silver hairs scattered among the black. Krycek had weathered rather than aged, still managing that boyish twinkle that almost hid the darkness in his gaze. The longer Mulder looked, the pinker Krycek became, until Krycek set his drink down on the bar and leaned into Mulder's face.

"What? Before you get all up in my shit-"

"Fo shizzle, my nizzle," Mulder replied, taking the wind out of Krycek's sails as well as the hiss from that vicious low whisper ... and felt kind of like he'd sucked poison out of a wound when Krycek finally looked into his eyes and started snickering.

"Good one. Okay. Truce? For the duration of the party, at least?" Krycek asked, sitting back in his seat and lifting his glass to his lips with utterly controlled calm, as if he'd never been on the verge of threatening violence.

Mulder didn't fail to notice he'd felt spectacularly unthreatened. Parts of him were still singing praises at having Alex Krycek near enough to smell, and he smelled as good as he looked. Like pines and snow and honey. Mulder thoroughly approved. He already missed Krycek's body heat; it was receding too soon.

"At least. So, you're alive."

"Jeremiah Smith is a good friend."

"You know where he is," Mulder concluded, just from the tone of Krycek's quiet voice.

"If he wanted you to know, you'd know, Mulder. Walt knows."

Mulder tried not to react, but that stung. Krycek saw it somehow, sighing through his nose before reaching out and briefly touching the back of Mulder's hand. His fingers were cold, Mulder noticed. So cold they burned.

"Come on, it's not that he doesn't trust you. You're- Mulder, you and Scully have always been Jeremiah's canaries in the mine shaft, an extra layer of protection with a profile high enough to keep attention off of him. It's not personal, it's his safety. Give him a break. It's not like we don't owe him."

"I know," Mulder managed, after taking a moment to rearrange his face to look less like Krycek had struck him. "I understand."

"Do you?" Krycek's eyes were dark, so dark. "Let's be clear on the facts. Jeremiah thinks a lot of you. A lot of what he did, he did on your behalf. It's one of those family honor things with him. The extraterrestrial parts of you came from Jeremiah's father, so Jeremiah almost single-handedly derailed colonization of this planet to protect you and your generations, starting an interstellar civil war in the process.

"I bet you didn't understand all that." Krycek had leaned into him again, irresistibly close, or maybe - Mulder had to admit - he'd been drawing closer the entire time, trying to hear every word falling from Krycek's pink mouth, voiced so quietly Mulder had to strain to listen. "Jeremiah is protecting you by not telling you where he is."

It was a pretty story, anyway. Mulder let it make him feel better, even though he didn't completely believe it.

"You said 'almost single-handedly'," Mulder found himself whispering into Krycek's ear, his nostrils flaring as Krycek's scent filled them. "You smell so damned good. You said, 'almost single-handedly'."

Krycek started snickering, pushing him back in his seat. Mulder wasn't sure exactly when he'd left it, reluctantly letting Krycek separate them.

"Thanks. I helped. Jeremiah, that is," Krycek added under his breath, blushing again. It was just the cutest thing ever, Mulder thought idly, mostly processing what Krycek had just said.

"How long? How long were you in the Resistance?"

"Always. All my life. I was born into it, Mulder. Third generation Russian Resistance. I won't apologize for all the shit I was ordered to do while infiltrating the F.B.I. and the Consortium, if that's what you're waiting for. I am sorry for the times I hurt you as a consequence of an assignment," Krycek confided, voice so near silent Mulder caught himself leaning forward again, wondered if Krycek did it on purpose, and thought, of course he did, the bastard.

"How much of that does Walt know?" Mulder asked, tipping his head in the direction of the Deputy Director, Retired, whom Mulder could just _feel_ heading their way, impending like a Bradley tank. It occurred to Mulder that from an outside perspective, he must be coming off as pretty aggressive the way he kept leaning into Krycek.

"All of it, but I don't want to talk about it here," Krycek said, clearing his throat and adding, "please."

"Gentlemen, do we have a problem? Mulder? Deputy Director Colonel Krajik?"

"What?" Mulder's throat closed and he stared at Krycek, confounded, needing a moment to catch his breath. "You were one of the secret witnesses before the Committee, the Russian counter-intelligence agent they called the Prince of Russia. That's you. I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"Thanks for saying it out loud, tovarisch, in a room full of federal agents."

"Do the words 'confidential informant' mean anything to you at all, Mulder? Alex is right, you shouldn't talk about that here."

Walt's sheer presence lent them privacy and Mulder hadn't spoken loudly enough to be overheard, but they were both right and he was being an asshole.

"Prince, huh. Allow me to offer you my willing parole, your Highness. Take me somewhere we can talk," he requested, whispering the words so no one else but Krycek- Krajik- Alex could hear him. Alex sucked in a breath and nodded, sliding out of his chair and turning to face Walt.

"Thank you, Walt. You're an impossible romantic," Mulder thought he heard Alex say, then Alex and Walt were hugging each other. Alex was wishing Walt good night and good life, quietly thanking him for everything he did to thwart the Consortium's reach inside the Bureau.

Walt didn't release Alex without giving Alex a smacking kiss, full on the mouth, thanking Alex for saving his life. They finished up by shaking hands and finally saluting, Alex holding his for an extra moment and then executing an elegant, deep bow that made Walter Skinner's face turn red.

"Be well, old friend."

"And you, Aleksandr," Walt said before turning on Mulder, grabbing him up in a hard embrace. "You, too, you big pain in the ass. Don't screw this up." This order was issued while Walt was squeezing a groan out of Mulder that prompted him to gingerly pat Walt's broad shoulders. "Thanks for coming, Mulder."

"Don't forget, lunch at Filomena's next Friday." Mulder had made Walt promise.

"Right. Maybe you'll get a better offer if you play your cards right. Or, bring him with you," Walt said and released Mulder, who felt a bit like he'd been handed to Alex on a silver platter when Alex's hand settled at his low back.

***

They were on the sidewalk, walking away from the exit and towards the parking lot, before Mulder started feeling herded and stopped in his tracks.

"Where are we going, Your Highness?"

"My many-greats grandfather was a Romanov. Tsar Nicholas was his great nephew. I'm not a prince, not really."

"It's ... kinda hot," Mulder admitted, watching another flush blazing over Alex's cheeks. "But you were hot anyway, Prince Aleksandr."

Alex tilted his head to one side and stared at Mulder as if he'd never seen Mulder before, like Alex was threat-assessing the shit out of him and planning the most expedient murder, all at the same time.

"And that pissy assassin look is hot, too. I've always thought so. Just saying," Mulder added, watching amusedly when Alex grinned helplessly and shook his head.

"You have some kind of breakdown while I wasn't looking?" Alex asked like he was hoping it was true.

"Had the bitter divorce I've heard every man should survive as a rite of passage. Came close to the breakdown, but not yet. Maybe you're it."

"Oh, like I needed any more incentive," Alex said, voice very slightly shaky. It was that wobble that gave Mulder the nerve to crowd Alex back against a big SUV and cover Alex with his body.

His interested body.

"I only hit you so much because I wanted you to hit me back. I wanted you to touch me, wanted your hands on my skin, wanted bruises I could look at the next day and think 'Alex touched me there'. I wanted the evidence, you see. But you wouldn't hit me back, Alex. Why wouldn't you hit me back?" he asked into Alex's neck, nuzzling the smooth warm skin beneath his lips.

Alex gasped, and his hands fisted in Mulder's shirt. Mulder feared he was about to be thrown to the tarmac, then he found their positions somehow switched. Alex was rubbing up against him with a long, low groan, his hot mouth moving over Mulder's jaw and aiming for Mulder's lips ... when the tinted window of the SUV rolled down. A silver-haired man leaned his flushed face out and leered. Mulder had seen him earlier in the party, with a younger man who'd caught his eye simply because he was gorgeous, tall, well-built, with piercing blue eyes and a positively succulent mouth. They'd stayed only long enough to have a drink with Skinner and a few minutes of conversation, before leaving quietly with no fanfare.

"You boys need to get a room. It's not safe doing this here, which is what I've been trying to tell you, you knucklehead," he added in an aside, in the exasperated tone of a man completely frustrated with a lover, which was when Mulder realized there was someone else in the SUV. At lap height.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," Alex grinned and it occurred to Mulder that Alex knew the other man. This fact was driven home when Alex said "Thank you, too, Doctor J." A muffled "you're welcome, Doctor K" drifted out - a male voice - and Alex actually snickered, moving off Mulder with gratifying reluctance, holstering a 9 mill Mulder hadn't even seen him draw. "Drive safely on the way home, old man."

"I will. Precious cargo. You gonna be okay with this guy?" Mulder, gaining enough presence of mind to peel himself off the guy's SUV and take a few steps back, found himself the subject of a shrewd dark-eyed stare that weighed and judged him barely passing.

"He'll be okay. I won't hurt him," Mulder ended up saying when it seemed like the guy was expecting him to answer.

"Son, pick an objective that's attainable. Hurting happens no matter how hard you try. Just don't hold grudges. That's the real killer in a relationship."

"Oh, Jack," Mulder heard whispered, before that extraordinarily beautiful young man sat up and pulled Alex's friend into his arms. "We're going to go home and talk. In bed. After. See you around, Aleksandr. Doctor Mulder. Treat Alex right or you'll be sorry."

Alex said something in Russian, speaking so quickly Mulder's own mediocre Russian couldn't keep up. The pretty young man replied in the same language, effortlessly, piquing Mulder's curiosity. By the tone of his melodic words, he was assuring Alex.

"Your accent makes me feel as if I am in St. Petersburg, my friend. Be well and don't worry about me," Alex insisted in English, with a sideways glance of apology aimed at Mulder.

"What makes you think we'll be worrying? We'll be fine, you'll be fine. See that he is," Alex's friend ordered Mulder peremptorily before raising his window and starting the SUV. Mulder had the definite impression that giving orders was something the man did well and often.

"Yes, Sir," Mulder replied automatically, not exactly sure when he'd started standing almost at attention and having to laugh at himself - for his posture, his answering even though the guy wouldn't hear him. He looked quickly to catch whatever was in Alex's gaze. Alex was patting the door of the SUV like a benediction then turning to walk away, glancing back over his shoulder to regard Mulder with what appeared to be fond impatience.

"Come on. My car? Or would you prefer to follow me?"

"I took a cab. I fully expected to stumble out of Walt's party drunk, puking, and probably crying," Mulder predicted mournfully, trying for humor. He was taken aback when Alex whirled around and caught him by one hand, pulling Mulder with him before halting a good ten feet from a black BMW parked in the back row. Alex pulled what looked like a handheld video game out of his left pocket and aimed it at the car. The screen glowed but Mulder couldn't see what it said. Alex pored over it, then apparently satisfied with what he'd seen, remotely unlocked the doors and started the car.

He didn't start talking until they were inside with the car started.

"It's alien tech, but you didn't see it. Detects explosives and listening devices, among other things. As for how I came by it, let's just say it turns out my genes aren't one-hundred percent human either. I was able to do some guys a favor and earned the little scanner as a bonus. Got a couple of awesome alien ray guns, too. I'll show you when we get to my place," Alex offered, giving Mulder a smirky little grin.

"You're offering to show me alien ray guns at your place? Wait, you have a place?" Mulder said, at first delightedly amused then shaken and hurt to think Krycek had been living in D.C. this whole time and he hadn't known.

"I keep a place here, a condo I bought back in the day, but I don't live in it. I don't want to live in D.C. Most of the time I'm in Vancouver. I have citizenship. It was a 'thanks for saving the world' gift from the Canadian Prime Minister when it looked like I was going to be declared persona non grata by the U.S. government. Walt was a big help with negotiating all that. Walt and the guys we just saw," Alex said almost absently, pulling out of the parking lot and smoothly merging, most of his attention obviously on the traffic.

"The one you called Doctor J, he called you Doctor K?"

"Private joke."

Mulder thought there was probably more to it than that, but he reserved that line of questioning and moved on to something else.

"Don't take this question the wrong way, but why not go back to Russia?"

"Nobody wants the last surviving Romanov in Russia except the right-wing whackjobs. Most of the rest of the country would rather me dead like the rest. I'm from a bastard line - the Grand Duke and some servant girl - plus, I'm a spy, emblematic of one of the worst periods in Russian history. Add to that, I'm gay, and in certain circles, considered a traitor to Mother Russia's interests. I wouldn't last a week."

"I'm sorry," Mulder said, hearing bitterness behind Alex's light words. "Walt called you Deputy Direc-"

"Yeah, it's just a courtesy title. My department no longer exists now that the threat of colonization is over-"

"Can I get an amen," Mulder intoned, pleased when Alex merely grinned at his interruption and kept talking, undeterred.

"-and I was encouraged to retire outside Russia. Amen," Alex added obediently, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"If I'd known letting you drive was like giving you truth serum, I would have let you drive from day one." Since he was also failing at not saying what he was thinking, Mulder gave a mental shrug and kept on talking. "I'm damned glad you aren't there, you know. In Russia. Damned glad you're here."

"Spasibo, tovarisch. I'm damned glad to be here, too, to be honest. It was a near thing. Well. Actually, I _was_ dead for a few hours before Jeremiah got to my body."

Alex said it so very casually that it took a few moments before the true horror of the words seeped in. Mulder's gut clenched and he almost retched, shivering with the icy chill of remembering Alex's death, crucified at the end of Walter Skinner's service weapon. Wrapping his arms around himself, Mulder relived that scene like he did too often, saw it happen over and over again and still never understood what the fuck Alex had been talking about the whole time.

"Did you go into that knowing you were going to live and did Walter know he was only killing you temporarily?" Mulder blinked at his own words, appreciating the oxymoron.

"You mean, did I go into it with the expectation of Jeremiah bringing me back?" Alex blew out a breath like his gut was being punched, taking advantage of being stopped for a red light to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fox, can't we add this subject to the 'not here' pile?"

"Give me a bullet point summary, then," Mulder demanded, almost amused when Alex stretched, rotated his shoulders, then his neck, settling himself more comfortably behind the wheel. Mulder wondered how much self control it took to be able to drive so competently, conservatively, and cautiously while discussing such painful things. "Please, Alex?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not going to beg."

"No. What. You called me. You keep calling me. Alex."

"So? So does Walt. It's your name, isn't it? And you called me Fox."

"Okay. Wait. You're jealous?" Alex's voice probably jumped a full octave; he was that astonished. "Of Walt?"

"I am not jealous." Which was a lie. "You're trying to change the subject," Mulder pointed out self-righteously. "Besides, Walt's hot. You had to have noticed."

"Not blind," Alex's answer came after an uncomfortably long silence. "Uh, there will never be a good time to hear about some of this."

"I'll consider myself warned." Mulder took a deep breath and took his own advice to heart, steeling his resolve.

"Bullet points, he says. Bozhe moi," Alex grumbled, pulling onto the Beltway with a snarl that seemed to magically clear holes in the traffic. Mulder observed the effect with some wonder.

"So, what is it with you and Walter, anyway?" he prodded when Alex didn't speak again for several minutes.

Alex rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine. You just ... shut up and listen. I can't do it in bullet points and you'll just have to deal with what you hear, I guess. Walt and I ... used to have a ... thing. I'd call it a sex thing but it wasn't about sex. I was ... in a dark place after ... the silo, and I needed to be hurt just so I could feel something. Walt ... I put Walt in a difficult position. He tried not to like hurting me, but I'd been messing with his mind so much by then that when he had the chance to- It started that night I was cuffed to his balcony. It was consensual, Fox, don't get me wrong. But it was rough, and ugly, and painful. It was what I needed at the time, I thought, but I was pretty fucked up in the head and what I was doing with Walt didn't improve the situation because I was ... having Walt punish me for events beyond my immediate control. A lot of those events involved you. Every time I had to hurt you I ... went to Walt and had him ... use me. And most of the time I had to blackmail him into it and it was ... really bad for him. I pushed him into ... using whips and canes and drawing blood and the entire time I was killing his soul. Walt likes to dominate but he's not a sadist."

Alex sighed and it sounded gusty and regretful. Mulder was holding his own gut, sure if he didn't he was going to fly apart. He was hating every word Alex was saying, hating that he couldn't say he hadn't been warned. Alex had been right. None of this was easy to hear.

"I didn't hit you back for the same reason I made Walt beat me, because I thought I deserved to suffer, of course. Thought I deserved every bad thing that happened to me and went out of my way to make sure there were a lot of bad things to choose from.

"I know, now, that I was totally deranged because of the oilien's possession. My neurochemicals were all over the map, I went from bipolar to completely depressed, and eventually, after our trip to Siberia and what happened there, I started planning suicide."

Alex's hand came out to lie in offer across the console, open palm up. Mulder found himself putting his own hand there, gratefully squeezing the living warmth of Alex's fingers, beyond grateful that Alex had two hands again.

"To answer the original question. I deliberately chose a time when Jeremiah was out of town. I deliberately tricked Walter into thinking Jeremiah would be right there with me - turns out no matter what I've done to Walter Sergei, I couldn't destroy the good man he is. Walt believed my death would be temporary, a show, for you. He didn't find out until after Jeremiah brought me back that I went into it hoping to die, Fox. Intending, planning, hoping to die and stay dead."

Alex left the Beltway for the Parkway and headed northeast. Mulder barely noticed, too shaken by these calm confessions.

"You wanted to die," Mulder got the words out somehow. "You planned for Skinner to shoot you to death in front of me."

"Yeah, and don't think I didn't kick his ass later for shooting me in the arm first, the son of a bitch. We're pretty much even. I made him wish he was dead for a few days."

"You kidnapped him out of the fucking parking garage in the same spot he killed you," Mulder snapped, irritated by the satisfaction - on entirely too many levels - in Alex's voice. He didn't want to speculate but his mind was taking him there, nonetheless, with visuals of Alex keeping Walter in chains, bound to a bed. Walter Skinner had shown up four days after his abduction bearing marks from restraints but not one other bruise ... unless one counted love bites, of which Walt had more than a few, both on his throat and the back of his neck where it met his shoulders. Walt refused pictures, refused to pursue the case, and eventually had it dropped, so it went into the unsolved, unknown subject files. Popular notion held it as a sex game that got a little too realistic; it became a nine day wonder around the Bureau, much to Walter Skinner's mainly well-hidden embarrassment, and eventually passed into Bureau lore.

It was Mulder's turn to take a deep, cleansing breath. He was afraid he might be cutting off the circulation in Alex's fingers.

"That was revenge elevated to an art form. He did a lot of squirming for a couple of weeks, in more ways than one. Why have yourself killed in front of me, Alex?" Mulder really wanted to know.

"Because you wouldn't have believed it otherwise. You're Fox Fucking Mulder," Alex said, such a range of emotions tightening his voice Mulder couldn't identify them all. Bitterness surely, with the 'don't you get it?' attitude Alex had been taking with him since leaving the Bureau. Impatience with Mulder's lack of understanding, and yet, complete faith in who Mulder was, surety in predicting Mulder's reactions, like Alex really did know him that well. "You would have doubted, wondered, looked into it, ended up in danger or dead. This way, I knew you'd have, you know, closure."

Physically, only the slight drumming of Alex's fingertips on the wheel betrayed any anxiety at all, otherwise, he continued to keep his attention on driving. Keeping him, Mulder, safe in his care, Mulder perceived and relented, taking another deep breath and relaxing in his seat.

"Right, closure. Okay, you win, Alex. I don't think I want to talk about this subject ever again so why don't you pick another one? Or, hey, we can talk about Scully," he said, giving Alex's hand another - gentler - squeeze.

"Oh, no, let's don't," Alex said, letting out a low sniff and squeezing Mulder's. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Fox. I'm not telling you anything I wasn't going to tell you, sooner or later. I'm trying to be honest, here."

"I noticed, actually," Mulder said, letting his tone lighten both their moods. "I was starting to wonder if the car was possessing us or something."

It took a moment, but Alex's lips peeled back from his teeth and he let out a long, hearty laugh. Mulder, who turned out to be desperately proud of himself for getting Alex to laugh like that, quickly promised to do it again, and often.

He didn't want to fight with Alex. There'd been enough of that, and fighting was not at all what he wanted from now on.

***

Alex had a perfectly normal, older townhouse condo in Laurel. The exterior was well-tended but beginning to show its age; Mulder supposed he could have said much the same for the interior, which was sparsely furnished with only a few essentials, furniture-wise. A TV, a stereo, and a Playstation, all of which were a good ten years old. A chocolate brown leather couch, a matching recliner, and a few tables ... it looked like what it was, as impersonal as a hotel suite, complete to takeout containers scattered on the kitchen bar. The only truly exceptional thing about it was the security system.

"Like I said, I'm not here much." Alex's voice was almost apologetic as he walked over and kicked up the thermostat. Mulder wasn't sure if the room was really all that cold or if his nerves were still that chilled following Alex's revelations.

"You came ... for Walt's retirement party. You didn't ... come for me," Mulder said slowly, wishing he didn't feel like he was picking his way through another minefield.

"Don't kid yourself. I knew you'd be there tonight. I didn't have to come. I could have just ... I thought it might be time." Alex turned on the lights over the bar and moved into the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Time for what? What else do you have?"

"White zinfandel?"

"What vineyard?"

"Woodbridge."

"Yeah, okay, that'll do."

"Wine snob."

"Maybe. Time for what?"

"God, you're relentless." Alex came back in and motioned to the sofa with his elbows, hands taken up with holding a wine bottle and two crystal glasses. "Let's sit and drink first, like civilized people."

Mulder couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be than sitting beside Alex, who waited until he was settled to lean forward, set down the glasses, and open the wine. As controlled and unaffected as Alex worked to be, he could not prevent the faintest tremble of his fingers, particularly visible to Mulder when Alex handed him a glass.

"To time, and having it," Alex toasted gravely, his eyes meeting Mulder's for what seemed like the first time in forever. Nothing about his attitude screamed unease, but his gaze was bottomless and empty, revealing no emotions. A defense mechanism, Mulder believed, suddenly aware part of Alex fully expected Mulder to hurt him again.

Expected it.

Holding up his glass and tinging it gently against Alex's, Mulder repeated "to having time" and took a full sip. "This isn't bad." He thought he was successfully covering the hollow ache in his gut.

"Thanks. The caterer picked it."

"You have food and wine catered in while you're here?"

"Can't eat out all the time and I get tired of take-out, so a service comes in and stocks the place with groceries and frozen dinners."

"So ... what's the difference, exactly? And are you saying you can't cook?" Mulder asked with pretended dismay, liking the way the banter was lightening the darkness in Alex's eyes.

"Oh, a few things. Spaghetti, meatloaf. Posole. Mac and cheese. Scrambled eggs. Bacon."

That was about the extent of Mulder's culinary skills, too, unless you counted heating up frozen pizza. The posole was a little off the beaten track, but Alex was always unique. Mulder was looking forward to uncovering more layers of the man ... as well as the layers covering him, for that matter.

"Hmm, we're going to have to take a cooking class together, I suppose," Mulder drawled and watched pure shock darken Alex's gaze. Alex had gone motionless again, that predatory freeze right before the sudden attack.

"Us, together. That's a little presumptuous, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"So, what, this is the big moment, the scene where I'm supposed to fall into your arms and declare my everlasting love?" The derision in Alex's voice was breathtaking, but didn't stop Mulder from thinking Alex had already done exactly that.

"You never finished telling me what you were about to say earlier. You thought it might be time - time for what, Alex?" he asked smartly. He wanted to know. He set his glass down, reached out and took Alex's, putting it aside with his before taking Alex's hand ... and if he moved with the careful deliberation of a demolitions expert dismantling a bomb, well, that was between him and his nervous system and would stay there. Alex's fingers were cold. Mulder recognized the subtle symptom of Alex's anxiety.

"Time for us to be civil? Act like adults? Be professionals? Get along, at a minimum, for Walt's sake if nothing else?"

"Are you and Walt still-" Mulder wondered for a horrified moment if he'd gotten this all wrong, if Alex and Walt-

"No, hell, no, never again. Walt wants a little too much obedience to suit me. I think we both learned that lesson," Alex said ruefully, relaxing back into the sofa. More encouragingly, he was letting Mulder hold his hand. "I just- I'm not bending over for you, either, Fox."

"Oh, good, I was hoping to bend over for you, Alex."

Alex shook his head like he couldn't quite parse Mulder's words and they were buzzing around the inside of his skull. He actually went pale, startling Mulder, who clutched at Alex's clammy hand despite his own sweaty grasp. He'd abruptly come to realize this wasn't as much of a done deal as he'd believed - he'd thought it was self-evident that he and Alex were going to be together. It surprised and hurt him a little that Alex didn't see it, too.

"I have missed you," Mulder said, lifting Alex's hand to his mouth. Because it was the truth, he was willing to go down fighting in entirely different ways these days. Alex gasped, froze, then jerked his hand away, almost levitating off the sofa. He was standing on the other side of the room before Mulder even finished turning, still reaching for him.

"Little late for the frightened virgin act, isn't it?" Mulder cursed his own tongue when Alex looked hurt. Very briefly.

"Yeah, because I'm no virgin and I can see that's gonna bug you. Strike ... what, ninety-three?"

That bit. Mulder forced himself to relax.

"Do you really want to go there? You want to count faults?"

Mulder guessed Alex didn't, given the way Alex grimaced and wrapped his arms around himself, like he was trying to hold himself together.

"This isn't easy for me," Alex began; Mulder was just frustrated enough to get sarcastic.

"No, really?"

"Shut the fuck up." Alex could go from vulnerable to homicidal in about four nanoseconds, Mulder noted. "It's not easy, I said. _I'm_ not easy. Don't think you're going to come into my home and mock me. I don't need you, Fox Mulder. You're a luxury, not a necessity."

"And you're kind of an asshole, Alex, but I'm prepared to not hold it against you. Rather hold myself there." Mulder said, keeping his voice gentle and coaxing. "Come on, you know you want me."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alex was suddenly dragging his fingers through his own hair and clenching his fists in it, staring at Mulder with utter disbelief. "You act like- like-"

"Like I've been in love with you for over a decade? Like I've wanted you so much I died wanting you? Like I married Scully to get over you? Like you're still the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing at night, usually when I'm lying there with my dick in my hand," Mulder added to be fair, speaking as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Are you going to waste time by freaking out now?"

"Freaking out." Alex's voice had gone flat and even.

"Well, yeah," Mulder said like it was self-evident, motioning to his own head. Alex dropped his hands to his hips and gave Mulder a narrow-eyed glare. Hoping Alex was calmer than he looked, Mulder stood and approached him.

"I don't think-" Alex held up one hand and started moving away; it was precisely what Mulder anticipated so he quickly countered, crowding Alex and pushing him back into the wall.

"Yeah, don't think. Not thinking, that would be good," Mulder decided, kissing Alex before his nerve ran out. Alex's lips thinned with outrage, stiff beneath his. The grip Mulder had in Alex's hair along with the arm he had around Alex's waist kept Alex from getting away because Mulder was far from deterred - he swept his tongue along that stubborn seam then sucked Alex's lower lip into his mouth, biting at it tenderly. "Don't think, Alex," he urged into Alex's teeth, pressing them together from chest to thigh.

Alex tried to say something. A warning, maybe, since Mulder somehow found himself back on the sofa, flat on his back, with Alex on top of him. Alex was kissing him now, hands on his head holding him still for a devouring, hungry mouth. Alex kissed him like he never wanted to do anything else and all Mulder wanted to do was lie there and take it, hot and wet and deep.

Alex lifted his head too soon to stare Mulder in the eyes. For once, there was no darkness in his gaze; a giddy Mulder thought he could see lightning flash instead. Alex's face was pink and his lips were moist and swollen ... Mulder had to lift his head and plant another savoring kiss. Alex tasted good.

"Are you sure?" Alex asked against his lips. Mulder let his head fall so he could grab Alex's face in his hands. Alex looked like he badly wanted to be convinced. His gaze kept dropping to Mulder's mouth. Mulder liked that.

"I'm so sure that I'll make a prediction," he offered, pleased when Alex smirked at him.

"This, I gotta hear."

"The next time you die, it's going to be from a sex-induced heart attack in your nineties and I will have caused it."

Mulder knew he was winning when Alex began to laugh.

  
End  
12-23-09


End file.
